Koans pick the locks on the narratives that define our lives. When those narratives become exposed and transparent we have the freedom to move through them and outside them, to rewrite entire portions of our story. We recalibrate our sense of what we are capable of as individuals and what is possible in this universe by taking risks, and when we stop limiting ourselves according to what we believe is possible it’s as though the universe has suddenly opened the corral and given us freedom to pursue what we love. We may not have even known or acknowledged what we love until this moment because it laid outside the realm of possibility, so we might stand at the open paddock gate for a long time, wondering where to go.

But maybe one day we have some wild idea about a project or a passion or a fear and instead of muting it immediately with the muzzle of possibility, we think, “Holy moly, do I dare break my own rules and follow that dream?” Do we take that chance and step off the ranch? If we say yes, it is at that moment that the wealth of creative energy in the universe comes to bear in us. When we make the decision to set out on the course that Love has charted, without knowing where it will lead us, suddenly it seems we become beneficiary to a vast and mysterious storehouse of resources that we never knew existed. Purpose gives us wings, problems become puzzles, and everything becomes useful.

Although it can be deeply rewarding to give life to something and bring it to completion, we might find that the completion of our task actually brings on a kind of disappointment, even a sense of grief despite what we may consider a great accomplishment. While we were engaged in our holy mission to find the grail we enjoyed the blessings of Heaven and weathered the curses of Hell, but we have brought the golden cup back to the paddock and now it sits coldly on a shelf somewhere, perhaps adored by others but not as much by us as when we were searching for it. It turns out that all along there were two grails, the one we sought and the one we found, and now that we possess the grail we have found, we have lost the grail we sought. Such can be the irony of getting what one wants.

And so we can say that perhaps our finest reward was not in the completion of our work, but in the struggle and search, the dirt-stained clothes and sweaty arms, and the feeling of strain and release as we enjoyed the grace that comes with doing Love’s work. Perhaps the most valuable thing was not the grail itself, but the connection we enjoyed with the things of this life which colluded to bring us to it. And so we set out again on that dusty road of Love, the wind at our back and another grail in heart. And may we be so blessed as to never find what we are looking for.

It occurred to me as I was walking through the door of my house this evening that maybe it would be good for me to introduce myself.

Hi! My name is Jesse.

I started this blog as kind of a support site for 16 Bodhisattvas, the koan small group I lead in Charlottesville, Virginia. But also, I love to write and although I share my writings with people, it seems like I want a place to put them where I can go back and look over them. And I guess other people can read them too, if they want.

Maybe a quick history of my practice is in order. I started meditating in April of 2006 after a pretty major life change. It just seemed like the right thing to do: slow down, listen to the birds, look inside. My dad started sending me boxes of the books about Zen and meditation he had collected over his own years of practice, and so I started reading them. I guess I seemed pretty interested, because Dad started looking for a teacher for me. Luckily, he found John Tarrant, who is the founder and director of Pacific Zen Institute.

About six months later, I was off to my first 7-day retreat: silence, lots of sitting, and interviews with teachers. Vegetarian food. I was a pack-a-day smoker at the time but decided I wouldn’t smoke while I was there. I had no idea what I was getting into. But sitting in a hotel hot tub after that first retreat I felt something had changed, although I wasn’t sure what. There was something about the soft, crispy whispering of the trees that I had never heard before and I remember the lines on a dirty pickup truck seemed to be just right. Apparently I got something out of it, because I accepted Dad’s offer to take me to another retreat 6 months later.
Look at me! I’m right here!

I spent the next several years softly concussing my head against the wall with koans, trying real hard and comparing what I was experiencing to what I expected to experience, based mostly on what I had read in books (needless to say, I felt pretty incompetent). When I look back on that time I tend to think, “What kept me going all that time, frustrated, feeling like I was getting nowhere?” I think my answer now is that I was probably getting the same thing I get from meditation now: intimate contact with my own life. The only difference is that now I realize that’s what I want, is what I’ve always wanted. There’s this thing we do in meditation–I think most of us do it–where we assume that there’s some golden ideal to achieve, and it can only be obtained through a great deal of hard, painful work whereby we purify the soul, let go of all worldly attachments, and achieve perfection so that we can Be Like The Buddha. Or something like that. But anyway, that’s all garbage, or at least unnecessary. Strangely enough, when I stop trying so hard to become something, it turns out I already am what I’ve been looking for.

Anyhow, eight years and many hours on the meditation cushion later, I’m still studying with John. Since 2006 I’ve spent time with a bunch of koans and the way I experience my life has changed. A lot. There have been some sudden changes and many more subtle, gradual changes. I’ve just returned from a PZI retreat in January to find that my approach to meditation and koans has shifted dramatically. At least once a year I realize that All Along I’ve been Doing It Wrong, and Now I’ve Really Got It, and this is one of those times. But it’s a good feeling, like finding out that your crush likes you back or being rescued after days lost in the desert. It seems to be mostly about the falling away of my ideas about how things need to be. There’s a tremendous joy and gratitude in that.

And so I guess this current enthusiasm has re-energized me about bringing koans to people. I work at a mental health crisis stabilization unit and I’m starting to bring koans into my work with clients in a way I haven’t allowed myself to before. I’m also expanding my efforts to reach people who might be interested in what my koan group has to offer.